


Systematic, Hydromatic, Car Mechanic

by Adohug, musicals_musicals



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Car Mechanic, Anyways, Gen, i dont remember writing half of this, mechanic!zoey, oh wait i didn't, somehow the entirety of SPRQpoint still knows and likes her, thats a co-author joke there, zoey wasnt as good at school and dropped out to be a mechanic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adohug/pseuds/Adohug, https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicals_musicals/pseuds/musicals_musicals
Summary: Emily knocked on the wall again, “Hello! Is anyone here?”Something clanged under the closest car, and a person rolled out from under. The woman had bright red hair and was covered in a fair amount of grease. “Are you–” Emily struggled to remember what the garage was called. “Clarke?”“Yep, Zoey Clarke here, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”or, mechanic!zoey au that took less than 24 hours to form from conception to completion
Relationships: Clarke Family, David Clarke & Zoey Clarke, Jessica & Zoey Clarke, Simon Haynes/Jessica, Tobin Batra & Zoey Clarke, Zoey Clarke & Emily, Zoey Clarke & Joan, Zoey Clarke & Leif Donnelly, Zoey Clarke & Max Richman
Comments: 13
Kudos: 15





	Systematic, Hydromatic, Car Mechanic

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to mechanic zoey au cowritten by adohug and myself after we went accidentally went off about mechanic zoey for an hour. we had a blast writing it so I hope you enjoy!

Max Richman looked up at the red sign that read “CAR CLARKE” and let out a sigh of relief. His first week of work at SPRQpoint was already stressful enough, but his car making a weird noise was the icing on the cake. As he pulled into the car shop, he offered a silent thanks up to the coworker who mentioned this place when he was asking -- Tobias? Whatever.

He killed the engine and hopped out, twirling his keys. “Hello?” His call echoed in the garage that seemed to be empty. From the corner of his eye he noticed some movement by the door to the office so he decided to go that way. “Hey, I was recommended this place by a coworker? Is Clarke here?”

“Clarke,” Max jumped as the distinctly feminine voice came out of nowhere, “Is a tad bit stuck, and will be with you in a minute!”

“Take your time,” he replied, looking around the place trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. He had driven in through the garage doors, which, from the orientation of everything, were probably the back of the building, so maybe this “back office” is more a front office? Max was so absorbed in orienting himself that he missed the distinctive noises of someone approaching him until said someone tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun in alarm and nearly elbowed the woman in the nose, but avoided it at the last moment. The woman had bright red hair and was probably a foot or so shorter than he was. She was wearing a grease covered pair of overalls over a stained t-shirt. “Oh, my god, I am _so_ sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” The woman– Clarke? Maybe? replied, brushing off her hands on her overalls. “You missed, no worries.”  
  
“You’re Clarke?” He asked politely, doing his best to channel his “real adult” energy.

“Yep! Zoey Clarke at your service.” Zoey stuck a hand out, and Max complied, shaking her hand. “So, what’s the problem with your car, mister…”

“Richman, but _please_ call me Max,” He said quickly, introducing himself. “Mister Richman reminds me of my Dad.”

Zoey smiled at him. “Max it is.” She looked behind him and nodded at his car. “That yours?”

Max nodded and held his keys up, offering them to Zoey. “Sure is; got it with my own money and it brought me across the country to college.” She took his keys while he spoke and beelined to his car, examining the outside. “It started making a weird noise yesterday and this was the place I was told to come.”

She looked up (she’s _short_ short) at him, blinking. “ _This thing_ lasted you through college? It’s a mess, and I haven’t even popped the hood. How is it still running?”

“With the hopes and dreams of a Brooklyn boy who just wants to make it in the world,” Max replied with a smile. After his joke was greeted by Zoey’s stare and the settling of something made of metal, he sighed. “About seventy dollars’ worth of duct tape.”

Concern flashed across Zoey’s face and she wasted no time opening his car up. Like he said, duct tape is one of the first things noticeable under the hood. And on the motor, and covering the battery, and… 

“Did you know that duct tape is, like, _ridiculously_ cheap?” Max attempted to lighten up the mood again, and this time it seemed to work, because from his vantage point (slightly behind Zoey, out of the way) he saw her shoulders shake from silent laughter. Emboldened, he continued, “Seventy bucks worth of duct tape is a _lot_ of duct tape, but I used every piece. I couldn’t afford to get it looked at while I was still in college, so I planned to get it looked at when I got a steady job. The noise I heard accelerated those plans.”

Zoey remained quiet for a moment, poking and prodding here and there. She stepped back eventually. “Well, before I can figure out what’s making that noise, I’m going to need to peel this stuff off. How thick is it?”

“I think one?”

“Layer?”

“No,” Max corrected, “Inch. At least, in some spots.”

Zoey stared at him for a long moment before bursting into laughter. Max stood still while the redhead calmed down, unsure if he should be laughing along or not. “Okay, follow me into the office. You need to fill out some paperwork before I can do anything else for legal reasons.”

Max followed her without complaint, taking in the sight of the office at the front of the store. He was probably supposed to have come here first, judging by the bell on the counter. Zoey ran him through the paperwork with the effortlessness of someone who has done this many times, he didn’t even have to ask questions because Zoey would answer them first.

“You’ll have to leave the car here overnight, you can pick it up tomorrow after- can I call you on this number?” She pointed at the number he’d scribbled onto the paperwork, and he nodded. “Alright, I’ll call you when I’m done and you can come pick it up.”

“Actually,” Max hesitantly asked, “Can I watch you pull the duct tape off? I want to see what’s underneath it all.” He also wanted to spend more time with Zoey, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud.

Zoey gave him a look that’s all joke-exasperation. “Your _car_ is under all that duct tape, Max. You can stay, just stay out of my way.”

Max nodded, smiling. “Definitely!”

Max followed her out to his car and settled in while she got to work. Turns out, duct tape is _very_ good at expanding when its removed from something, especially a car that might not survive its removal, because the garage floor was littered with scraps and pieces of the offending adhesive before Zoey’d finished uncovering anything. 

Max lost track of time, too busy making small talk and getting to know Zoey as a person. She was in the middle of a particularly interesting story involving her older brother and a bratz doll when an alarm sounded from one of her pockets in her overalls. “Oh, one second,” Zoey extracted herself from his car and pulled her phone out, silencing her alarm expertly. “I gotta do something really quick.”

“Okay?” Max followed her (he’s done a lot of following since he got here) back towards the office, then through it and out of the front door. Zoey stopped and looked around like she was waiting for someone, but she didn’t have to wait long. 

A surprisingly familiar face rounded the corner on a bicycle, followed shortly by _another_ familiar face, and Max had to manually stop his jaw from dropping open.

“How goes the fossil fuel consumption, Clarke?” Leif Donnelly called out as he approached.

Zoey scoffed, but didn’t seem offended. “I could take apart your bike in ninety seconds and you wouldn’t know the first thing about how to fix it.”

Max watched as Leif’s face paled (somehow) and his pace increased.

“Good one, Zoey!” Tobin ( _that_ was his name, not Tobias) called out from his skateboard, rolling past as well. “Hey Max!”

Max waved, dumbstruck, as his two worlds collided in the weirdest way. He followed Zoey back inside and found his words at some point after she settled back down into ripping up the duct tape. “Okay, wait. How do you know Leif Donnelly?”

She pulled off a particularly long piece before answering. “He comes past here every day at the same time and we insult each other. We’re best friends.” She dropped the piece of duct tape and turned to Max, arms crossed over her chest. “How do _you_ know Leif Donnelly and Tobin Batra, mister east coaster?”

“They work at SPRQpoint with me,” Max explained. He was then treated to the full color spectrum on Zoey’s face as she processed the name of his workplace. “What?”

“You work at _SPRQpoint_? _Leif_ works at SPRQpoint?” Zoey’s eyes widened. “ _Tobin Batra_ works at SPRQpoint?”

“... Yeah?”

Zoey leaned against his hood. “That means you work for Joan Bennett, and- and Danny Michael Davis, and…” She trailed off for a moment, but shook her head out and turned around, diligently getting back to work.

“Yeah, those are my boss and my boss’s boss,” Max clarified. “Why do you mention them? Are you a code nerd?”

“If I was better at school, I would be a coder,” Zoey said. “Fortunately, or unfortunately, I dropped out junior year and got my certs and started working. At first I worked here for an older mechanic, Howie, but he retired and left me the whole place to do with what I wanted.”

“He left you a good setup,” Max remarked. He didn’t have a lot of experience with cars, but the shop seemed organized, like the person who put it together knew what they were doing. “I’m guessing you keep tabs on the coding world?”

And with that question, the two moved back into the easy flow of small talk and getting to know each other. In what felt like no time at all, Zoey stepped back and triumphantly held up the last strip of duct tape. “And it’s all off! If you want to see what a mess your car is, come on closer.”

He did so, stopping next to her. “So, this is what an actual car looks like?”

“I wouldn’t call it an actual car,” Zoey corrected, squinting suspiciously at the engine. “How a family car manages to run on four cylinders, I’ll find out while I’m figuring out where the noise came from.”

Max stretched out his limbs as she spoke. “I only stayed to see the tape come off… Can I pay you tomorrow, or would you prefer it now?”

Zoey waved him away. “Tomorrow. I’ll call you in when I’m done. My best guess is around lunchtime.”

An idea bounced around Max’s brain and made its way out of his mouth. “How about I bring you lunch tomorrow? It’ll give me an excuse to explore the town, and you get a free meal out of it.” She gave him a wary look, and he held his hands up. “Listen, I want nothing out of this but a fixed car and friendship.”

She kept the wary look up for a moment, but she must’ve decided he was telling the truth, because she relaxed and nodded. “Can I text you with that number I have? I’ll send you some food recommendations.”

“Absolutely.” Max smiled at her. “And with that, I bid you adieu. Until tomorrow, Zoey Clarke.”

“Until tomorrow, Max Richman.”

\------------

Emily knocked on the wall of the garage, trying to figure out if anyone was working. She had started in the front office, but no one was at the desk or within earshot of the small bell that she had rung four times. Usually she would just give up and leave, but her usual place closed down a few months ago and this was the highest recommended garage in the area, so instead she went around back of the building to where the garage doors were open to let in the fresh air. Emily knocked on the wall again, “Hello! Is anyone here?”

Something clanged under the closest car, and a person rolled out from under. The woman had bright red hair and was covered in a fair amount of grease. “Are you–” Emily struggled to remember what the garage was called. “Clarke?”

“Yep, Zoey Clarke here, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” Zoey held out her grease covered hand to shake, before sheepishly pulling it away and wiping it on her overalls. “Sorry.”

“I’m Emily. It’s nice to meet you, too.” Emily said, looking around the garage. It was smaller than the other one she went to, probably because it was family owned, but it looked professional enough. “I was wondering if you had any openings today?”

“Of course,” Zoey unhooked her tool belt and dropped it on a wheeled cart next to the car she had been working on. “If you’ll just follow me into the office so I can get your info?” Emily followed Zoey through the garage, doing her best not to touch anything. They got to a door in the back wall that Emily knew from her earlier trip let out right behind the desk (she had considered going through it to find the mechanic, but that had seemed impolite. “Sorry I wasn’t here to greet you, usually we have someone working the counter when I’m back there.” Zoey powered on the ancient computer sitting on the counter, and looked at Emily. “So, what’s the problem?”

“I think something’s up with the spark plug,” Emily explained, frustrated. Her car had been acting weird for a few days now, but it was getting worse. “And don’t tell me I could fix that myself; I know that, but I’m on a case right now and I do _not_ have time to be watching youtube tutorials.”

Zoey blinked a few times at Emily’s outburst. “I mean, you’re going to pay me to fix it so I wasn’t going to tell you that.”

“Oh. Right.” That was a little embarrassing. There was no point of venting her frustrations at Zoey, she had nothing to do with it. “Sorry, my mom keeps telling me to fix it myself. She doesn’t seem to understand that I have a life.”

“That’s rough.” Zoey nodded. “So what exactly is wrong with the car?”

Emily quickly broke down the problem while Zoey listened intently, only interrupting to ask about the car make and model number. Over the last week she had done everything short of replacing the damn spark plug herself, so she at least kind of knew what she was talking about. 

“That should be a quick fix; I searched out inventory and we already have everything I need to fix it in-shop.” Zoey explained. “Unless you have somewhere to be, you can hang out here. It should take me around a half hour or so.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” It would be great to not have to worry about the car, hopefully it would give Emily time to focus on work, and maybe even have a social life. Hopefully next time she would have time to fix it herself. If Emily was going to be at the garage… “Is there any chance I could watch you fix it? As pleasant as it is here, it would be nice if I could fix it myself next time. I promise I’ll stay out of your way.”

Zoey looked surprised by the request, but not in a _how dare you ask me that_ way, which was good. “Uh, sure? I guess? I’m not great at explaining things.”

“You don’t have to explain, I’ll just watch.”

As it turned out, Zoey was amazing at explaining things. Even after Emily insisted multiple times that she didn’t need to, Zoey still insisted, breaking down everything she was doing and even showing Emily the tools that she was using. By the time Zoey was putting the car back together the conversation had drifted away from the mechanics (after all, the only instructions were “do everything you did before but in reverse”), and had become more like small talk and getting to know each other. Emily talked about the case that had her so stressed out, and Zoey talked about the garage and what it was like to work on cars. 

After almost exactly 30 minutes Zoey finally closed the hood of the car. “I think that’s everything. It should be good to go!”

“You’re amazing.” Emily still had time to get lunch before she had to get back to work. “Where do I pay?”

“Oh, I can do that here, one sec.” Zoey dug through the pockets of her overalls until she located her phone with a card swiper attached. She quickly typed in something Emily didn’t see and held out the phone. When Emily swiped her card it made a happy _ding_ noise and the screen turned green. “It was nice to meet you, Emily.”

“It was nice to meet you too,” Emily hadn’t been expecting to make a new friend at Car Clarke, but she wasn’t complaining. “I’m sure I’ll be back, just hopefully not for another spark plug replacement.”

“I think you’ll be able to handle it.” Zoey said, smiling. “I’ll be here when the big things go wrong.”

“Don’t jinx it.” Emily laughed, digging her car keys out of her purse. “Bye!” She pulled the front door open and stepped outside, feeling a lot better than she had been when she first arrived at the shop. 

\------------

Zoey was elbow deep in a car engine when David appeared, effectively scaring the shit out of her. “What are you doing here?”

“Maybe I just wanted to check in with my favorite sister?”

“I’m your only sister.” Zoey finally managed to unscrew the bolt that had been giving her trouble, pulling it from the car and dropping it on the cart victoriously (who puts a bolt underneath the engine and makes it unreachable from the bottom of the car?).

David sighed, “I need you to fix my car,” He muttered quietly enough that Zoey almost missed it.

“What was that?” Zoey grinned and leaned against the front of the car. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

David let out another sigh, more dramatic than the first. “I need you to fix my car.”

“My favorite sound,” Zoey teased. When she first announced that she was going to be a mechanic, David had teased her mercilessly -- that is, until the first time he needed to get his car repaired. Obviously Zoey could never let him live that down.

“Yeah yeah,” David rolled his eyes and shoved her shoulder. “I also wanted to talk to you about something.”

“I charge extra for advice, I’ll let you know.”

David rolled his eyes again, but was undeterred. “So there’s this girl–”

Zoey stood up straight “Wait! Girl advice? You came to _me_ for _girl advice_?” People never came to her for romantic advice. It’s not like she had that much experience with romantic relationships, or even platonic relationships. If David was coming to _her_ he was either desperate, or the problem had something to do with their family.

“I’m just as surprised as you are,” David admitted. “But I’m bringing her to family dinner in a few weeks and I want it to go well.”

Zoey could understand that. The first time she brought Max to family dinner (as a _friend_ ) she had spent the days before telling him everything he might need to know, and had asked her mother not to embarrass her every day leading up to it. “What’s her name?”

“I’m not telling you that.” David responded immediately. “You’ll just find her on Instagram or Facebook or something.”

That was exactly what Zoey had been planning to do, but she was never telling David that. “Fine, but how can I help you if I know nothing about her?”

David gave her a _look_ , before conceding. “I’m still not telling you her name, but you have a point–”

Zoey’s phone dinged in her pocket while David was talking and she held up a hand for him to wait. If it was a client or her parents she needed to respond, especially since the shop was open and dead. 

**_Emily_ **

**_Here’s a link to that book we were talking about the other day!_**

She could check out the link later, so she just relocked her phone and put it back in her pocket. “Sorry about that. Please continue.”

“Who was that?” David asked, having leaned over her shoulder to see the text. “Book club?”

“It’s just a friend.” Zoey dismissed, not up to the challenge of explaining to her brother how she managed to befriend one of her clients by teaching her about spark plugs. Emily had continued bringing her car to the shop whenever something went wrong, and would always strike up a conversation with Zoey. It was a little odd, but Zoey wasn’t complaining; it’s not like she had a packed social life. “I thought you were telling me about your mystery girl?”

As soon as he was reminded, David’s face lit up. “Okay, she’s a lawyer, so she could absolutely destroy me in an argument, and she’s so beautiful, I’ve never seen anyone as pretty as she is–”

As David continued talking Zoey went back to the car she had been working on when David arrived, occasionally uh-huhing and nodding along to what he was saying. He definitely wouldn’t have any problem bringing her to family dinner if he already liked her that much.

When David finally finished talking Zoey patted him on the shoulder. “She sounds great. If you get your car in here I’ll fix it after my lunch break.”

“Oh, right,” David fumbled for his keys and went to get the car, pausing at the edge of the garage. “Thanks for listening, Zoey.”

“No problem,” Zoey waved him away, thinking of all the other interactions she’d had in the garage over the years. “For some reason, people really like to talk to mechanics.”

\---------

On nights when the Clarke family had family dinner, Zoey never bothered to go back to her apartment after work. After all, her old room was still the same as it had been when she first moved out, and she kept the drawers stocked with sweatpants and old shirts for family dinner/emergency sleepovers. As long as she showered as soon as she got home and didn’t smear grease on everything, her parents didn’t mind; if anything they were happy that they got to see her more often. 

That was how she found herself: laying on the twin bed from her childhood in sweatpants and eating ice cream she had stolen out of her parents’ fridge. Downstairs her mom was in a flurry of cleaning the already spotless house, since she wanted it to look nice for David’s new girlfriend. She was staring at her old periodic table that was attached to the ceiling when downstairs the front door opened, then closed. A glance at the clock confirmed that it was nearing dinner time, so she should probably go help with the cooking.

Zoey was walking down the stairs, doing her best to scrape the last of the ice cream out of the corners. She put the spoon in her mouth, only to pause and pull it right back out when she came face to face with the absolute last person she had been expecting to see. “Emily? How do you know where I live?”

Next to the coat rack, David’s face paled as he looked between Zoey and Emily. “No.”

“Zoey? What are you–” Emily paused, putting the pieces together. She pointed at David, “Clarke,” Maggie, “Mrs. Clarke,” And finally Zoey, “Car Clarke.”

“Well,” Zoey said, doing her best not to laugh at the expression on David’s face. “Welcome to our home.”

“Would you like to see the kitchen?” Maggie asked, clearly amused by the situation. “Maybe later I can show you some of the baby pictures with David _and_ Zoey.”

“What?” Zoey exclaimed, at the same time as David said,

“Mom, we talked about this!”

Maggie waved off Zoey and David’s complaints. “You brought someone home for family dinner. You’re supposed to be at least a _little_ embarrassed.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Clarke. I would love to see the kitchen.” Emily said, following Maggie down the hallway. 

Zoey faintly heard her mother say, “Call me Maggie,” before she was left alone in the entrance way with David.

“I think mom just stole your girlfriend,” Zoey observed, listening to the chatter coming from the kitchen.

“Of all the people in the city, you just _have_ to know Emily.”

“I’ve known her longer than you have,” Zoey pointed out. From what she knew, David had only known Emily for two months, tops. 

“I hate it here.” David groaned, running his hand through his hair. “Why would the universe do this to me?”

“Hey, David,” Emily’s head popped out from the doorway. Her hair had been tied up into a bun and she had flour on her face. “I love your family.”

Zoey nudged David towards the kitchen. He seemed to have moved past his crisis and was smiling lovingly at where Emily had just been. “I think you’ll live.”

\--------

“Who’s ready for sushi day?” Max announced his presence in Car Clarke with a customary yell. About a month into their friendship, he took his lunch over to Zoey’s shop and picked something up for her, too. She was surprised, but accepted it anyways (after paying him back). After that day it was just another part of their friendship; he’d come over two or three times a week and eat lunch with her, or pull her out of whatever engine she’s absorbed in and go food hunting with her.

Today, her voice rang out from the office into the mostly empty garage (a rare scene; there’s normally at least one car or motorcycle parked outside of Zoey’s side project in the corner). “I thought Sushi Heaven Now was closed?” Max watched, amused, as Zoey emerged and vainly tried to scrub a grease spot from her cheek.

Max shrugged. “Found a new place. How do you get a grease spot from the office?”

“Oh, you’ve never worked with machines other than your fancy rubik’s cubes,” Zoey replied with a laugh, accepting the bag he held out for her.

“Technically they’re speed cubes, and you’re right, but what does that have to do with anything?” He sat down in the new Waiting Area (installed just a month ago, literally just a few chairs and a half-wall) and began pulling out his lunch. Zoey just laughed in reply and followed his lead.

The two friends sat in companionable silence while they ate. Max broke the quiet after he ate the majority of his food, like he normally did. “Looks like a slow day.”

Zoey shrugged. “Mikey picked up his bike at ten, and it’s been empty since. I’m thinking of closing early and taking the afternoon for myself.”

“Zoey ‘workaholic’ Clarke, taking time off?” Max gasped in mock-surprise. “Perish the thought!”

She shoved his shoulder with a smile. “Pot, meet Kettle.”

“At least I consistently take my lunch breaks without prompting.” Before she could reply again, an idea occurred to him. “Hey, I know what you could do with your time off!”

“You do?” Zoey did _not_ like that tone of voice.

Max just smiled at her, obviously excited. “I can give you a tour of SPRQpoint!”

… Okay, that was surprising.

“We’re in between projects, so you wouldn’t be a distraction,” Max barrelled on, “And you can get an up and close look at what it’s like to be a coder. Plus, we can totally freak out Tobin and Leif by having you show up at work!”

Max hoped he wasn’t being pushy. It would be _so cool_ if he could show his best friend where he works, but he doesn’t want to be _too_ pushy. Applegate proved what would happen if he pushed too hard. 

Eventually, Zoey shrugged. “Sure. What’s the worst that can happen?”

\------------

“I am _never_ going to SPRQpoint again,” Zoey declared to the world (and her empty shop). She immediately wandered over to her side project -- a mess of a pickup that she bought from a scrap yard that she tinkers with and fills with spare parts -- still talking to nobody, not even bothering to pull on coveralls. “Who cares if it was a childhood dream of mine to be a coder for a big tech company? Who cares if I surprised my friends by showing up at their place of work unannounced? Who cares if SPRQpoint is _really ridiculously_ nice?” She grabbed a wrench and went to town, tightening every bolt she can see. “I tripped in front of _Joan fricking Bennett_. I can never recover.”

Yet, a month later, where did Zoey find herself?

In the elevator of SPRQpoint, holding Max’s lunch, mentally psyching herself up.

“Okay, Clarke,” She muttered to herself, “You can do this. Just walk in, give Max his lunch, and walk out. Touch nothing, focus on where you’re going, and nothing can go wrong!” Just as she finished her pep talk the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, and she stepped back into the bright playground that passed as a coder’s office.

Zoey didn’t give herself the chance to ogle at the bright yellow decorations, or the glass walls and offices, or the wooden details, or the different swings and swing seats, and _is that a cereal bar_ \--

“HiMaxhere’syourlunchhaveagooddayhiLeifhiTobinseeyoulater _eep_!” Her plan worked, _mostly_. She’d marched in, gotten to Max’s desk, handed him his lunch, said hi to Tobin and Leif, and was about to turn around and march right back to the elevator… but instead, she was now crouched behind Max’s chair.

Max looked over his shoulder at her. “Are you okay?”

“ _No_ , I’m not okay,” Zoey hissed at him, “ _Joan fricking Bennett_ just _made eye contact_ with me!”

“Hey, I’m sure it’s… fine…” Max trailed off, causing Zoey to look back up. He didn’t reply to her questions or poking, so she peered around his chair herself.

“You.” Zoey shot to her feet, eyes wide. In front of her, _Joan fricking Bennett_ tilted her head and pinned her with a stare. “Are you a coder?”

Zoey cleared her throat in fear. “No, ma’am. I wasn’t good enough in school to be a coder.”

_Joan fricking Bennett_ pursed her lips, giving her clothes and guest pass a once-over. “Shame. You look smart.” With no other words, she walked off.

It’s only after her tunnel vision (it was _Joan fricking Bennett_ ) cleared that she realized the entire coder area was dead silent, and every eye was on her. Never a fan of the spotlight, she shifted. “What?”

“Dude,” Tobin broke the coders’ silence, “What the fuck?”

“That is seven more words from Joan than she’s said to me since I started working here,” Max spoke next, awe in his voice.

“How did that just happen?” Leif finished.

Zoey, still boggled by her meeting with _Joan fricking Bennett_ and also suddenly hit with how fucking bisexual she is, somehow managed a full sentence in response. “I have a Charisma score of twenty.”

\------------

A week later, Zoey was outside of the shop and waiting for her usual interaction with Leif, slightly shaken. Leif seemed shaken, too, because he actually pulled to a stop next to her on his bike.

“How did Joan know your name?” He wasted no time in bringing up what happened earlier when Zoey brought Max his lunch _again_. “I swear, _none_ of us have said your name in the office. How-”

“Leif,” Zoey cut him off, “I don’t know. If you _think_ I know, I will sneak into your apartment tonight and steal every third spoke from your wheels.”

Tobin, who must have been left behind in Leif’s haste, managed to get into earshot fast enough to catch her threat. “Creative and violent. Four point five today. Come on, Leif, we gotta feed Archibald.”

They took off before Zoey could bash their rabbit’s name again, so she just shook her head and wandered back into the shop. She does have a job to do, after all.

\------------

David was curled up in a blanket on the couch, doing his best not to cry into the throw pillows again, when Zoey finally arrived. For once she wasn’t covered in grease, so when she saw David on the couch, she didn’t have an excuse to leave.

“You good?” Zoey asked, edging awkwardly into the room.

“No,” Seeing Zoey just reminded him of Emily, so he pulled the blanket up over his head. Would Zoey stay friends with Emily now that they had broken up?

“He and Emily broke up.” Mitch explained, reaching over from the chair to pat David’s foot.

“I thought they were just on a break?” Maggie had been in the kitchen but she must’ve heard them talking. David pulled down the blanket slightly to look around the room. Zoey was hugging their dad and Maggie was holding a dish towel, which she was using to wipe down a pan.

“We broke up.” There was no use dancing around the subject. Emily was gone. “I miss her, and I never want to see her again. Is it supposed to feel like this?”

“Interesting,” Zoey nodded and exchanged a Look with Maggie. “Don’t come to Thanksgiving.”

At that, David put down the blanket all the way. There was no way his family would betray him like that. “You didn’t.” Suddenly everyone was refusing to make eye contact with David -- even Mitch was pretending to be absorbed in examining the coasters on the coffee table. “Mom?”

Maggie stared resolutely at the dry pan that she was still drying. “She’s just so sweet!”

“I can’t believe this.” David muttered, pointing at each of his family members in turn. “Betrayal.”

“It’s just Thanksgiving.” Zoey argued. “You hate Thanksgiving.”

“Maybe if you two make up in time you can be _her_ date.” Mitch offered. “I hear she just broke up with her old boyfriend.”

“I hate all of you.” The world was not worth seeing anymore so David pulled the blanket back up over his head, resolutely ignoring his family.

\-------

As most things in Zoey’s life do, it happened while she was fixing a car.

One second she was fighting with some very rusted brake pads, then suddenly there was a pretty british voice echoing in the garage. “Is anyone here? My car needs help.”

“Hello!” Zoey scrambled out from under the car as fast as she could, rolling to her feet. She really needed to get someone to work the front desk. Zoey wiped her hands on her overalls and walked in the general direction that the voice had come from. “How can I–” Zoey trailed off mid sentence. She had not been expecting to come face to face with two of the most beautiful people she had ever seen. Her foot caught on one of the many cables decorating the floor and Zoey went down, slamming her chin on the ground when she landed. She rolled onto her back and yep, they were still there, Zoey was now making a fool of herself in front of the hot people, figures.

“Are you okay?” The man asked, clearly concerned about Zoey (hopefully that concern stemmed from her injuries and not the fact that she was acting like an idiot).

“Nope! Or wait I mean– Yes! I’m fine, all is dandy! Just everyday, workplace hazards– you know.” Zoey rambled. This was definitely not helping her case. She sighed. “I’m Zoey.”

“I’m Jessica, and this is my fiancé, Simon,” Her voice was even more beautiful up close.

“There’s something up with our car,” The man– Simon, explained. He also had a fantastic voice, even though it didn’t have an accent, he was also really tall (although to Zoey, most people were tall).

“Well, I’d be happy to take a look at it!” On the way back to the office Zoey pulled out her phone to shoot a quick text to Max.

**_Zoey_ **

**_SOS 💜_ **

She took her time checking Simon and Jessica’s car in, making idle conversation to the best of her abilities without further embarrassment. Once the paperwork was done Zoey showed them the waiting area and went in the garage, where Max was already standing by the car with an extra cup of coffee.

Zoey took the coffee eagerly, draining half the cup right away. “You’re the best.” She hadn’t even asked him to get her coffee, but she definitely needed it.

“I try,” Max grinned and gave her a quick high five (a tradition for when Zoey was covered in grease and couldn’t offer hugs). “Why did you call Crush Emergency?”

“Go look in the waiting room,” Zoey said, pointing in the general direction of the door. As Max began to walk away, she blatantly realized that it would be really weird for Max to pop his head in just to stare at Simon and Jessica. She grabbed his sleeve. “Wait! Subtly.”

“What do you take me for? You?” Max shook off her hand and went through the door to the office. When he came out he was holding one of the repair manuals that Zoey kept under the front desk for the more complex cars just in case. “Zoey, there are two people in that room. Which one was I supposed to be looking at?”

“They’re a couple.” Zoey explained, trying (and failing) to explain the fact that they were both stunning.

“Yeah, I got that from the handholding. Which one are we talking about?” Max asked, confused. He was clearly not understanding the problem, so Zoey pulled him closer so he was also facing the window in the door where she could faintly see the top of their heads.

“ _Yes._ ” Okay, that maybe wasn’t the most _coherent_ way to convey information, but Zoey was standing by it. She had already used up all her conversation points trying to talk about Jessica and Simon.

Max examined Zoey. “You like both of them, don’t you?”

“Now you understand!” Zoey clapped her hands. “Oh shit, I’m supposed to be fixing their car.”

\--------------

As much as Zoey loved family dinners, nothing compared to the chaos that was family game night. They were all sitting around the coffee table: Zoey’s parents on the couch, David and Emily squeezed into one of the arm chairs (they had gotten back together a week before and had been insufferable ever since), and Zoey was sitting on the floor next to Max, who had earned a standing invite to game night within a year of meeting Zoey. This month the game of choice was Monopoly, which mostly meant that Emily was destroying them.

Max rolled a four and his shoe landed on a square already owned by Emily. “You owe me 200.” Emily said, effectively knocking Max out of the game.

“Not again,” Max handed over his remaining bills with a sigh. “I guess I’m on Zoey’s team.”

Zoey looked down at her meager 500 dollars. She would probably be out within two turns. “David, I’m so glad you two are back together so Emily can beat us at Monopoly again.”

“The only reason Emily didn’t beat you at Monopoly while we were broken up is because there wasn’t a game night.” David said, looking over Emily’s shoulder as she collected money from Maggie. He kissed Emily on the cheek “That was the worst. Next time we break up we need to do that thing where we split custody of our friends.”

“You don’t want to go there.” Maggie warned playfully.

David stared at her. “You wouldn’t.”

“Sorry babe, I just really love your family.” Emily teased. It was her turn so she rolled the die and quickly bought one of the squares Max had abandoned when he got knocked out. She now owned every single property on the board except for the two Mitch had and the one that Zoey had.

Zoey didn’t even bother rolling the dice. “I surrender.”

\----------

Ever since Zoey met Simon and Jessica (and subsequently panicked over how pretty they both are), Max had noticed a trend regarding information she had about SPRQpoint.

Specifically, information he didn’t tell her. Like one time, when they were getting coffee together before heading their separate ways for the day, she gave him a laundry list of things to tell people around the office.

“Let Leif know that I _did_ , in fact, fix his bike and that he can come pick it up whenever, tell Tobin that his favorite curry place is in danger of closing, and remind Glenn that nobody cares about his ascot collection.”

“Wait, hold on,” Max stopped walking. “Who’s Glenn?”

Zoey gave him an incredulous look. “He’s your coworker, Max. His desk is _right_ next to yours, how do you not know who Glenn is?”

And with that, she walked off, leaving Max flabbergasted on the sidewalk.

He _did_ manage to relay her messages -- why she didn’t just text Leif that his bike was fixed, she didn’t know -- but he also had to quietly ask Leif who Glenn was.

Or another time, when Zoey sent him a text at 5:51am with no preamble.

_**Zoey** _

_**Joan reorganized your desks. You work next to Leif now** _

Max had to double-check the date to see if she was pulling a prank -- it was April 23rd -- and elected to ignore the text. Sure enough, however, when he walked into work that morning he found the entire bullpen switched around and a seating chart drawn onto a whiteboard.

He slouched into his new seat next to Leif’s standing desk. “Why do you look surprised?” Leif asked, sipping something herbal from his mug. “Didn’t Zoey give you a heads up?”

Max didn’t know what to say to that, so he just muttered, “Shut up, Leif.”

After a while, Zoey seemed to know everything going on in _his_ office before _Tobin_ did. “Which, by the way, I’m _still_ confused about,” Max complained to her during their next movie night.

Zoey just shrugged and hid her smile behind her wine glass (well, mason jar). “What can I say? Your office likes me.”

“Your shop is so far away from SPRQpoint,” He pointed out. They were both completely ignoring _Space Jam_ , too focused on the present conversation. “Who’s your source?”

“I’m not outing my informant.”

“Please?”

She kicked him lightly.

“Didn’t know you could reach me from all the way over there, Clarke,” Max teased, insulting her height.

Zoey wound up another kick as a threat. “My couch is ridiculously small,” She reminded him.

“So,” He added, fully aware of the risks, “A normal size for you.”

_That_ earned him a pillow to the face.

\-------

“Zoey?” Jessica’s voice echoed through the shop. She waited until the Zoey appeared in her line of sight (this time from underneath a pile of wood pallets) before continuing. “I have a favor to ask you.”

“Uh oh,” Zoey joked, “Does Simon need to crash on my couch for a night?”

She reached a reasonable conversation distance finally, and Jessica wasted no time. “SPRQpoint is holding a company party soon and I’m always bored out of my gourd at company parties. Will you come with me?”

The confusion was evident on Zoey’s face. “But won’t you be going with Simon?”

“No one will mind,” Jessica dismissed her concern with a wave of her hand. “So?”

“I mean, sure.”

“Great!” Jessica swept Zoey up in a hug, completely ignoring her warning of _“grease, grease!”_ “I’ll text you the details. See you there!”

\-------

Over the next few days Zoey came to the realization that every other person at SPRQpoint had the same idea as Jessica.

Leif brought it up during their daily yell, opening with, “There’s a company party soon, you should come!”

“I’m going to disconnect your brake cables, Donnelly!”

“Great!” Leif had already passed her. “See you there!”

Later that evening, Tobin sent her fourteen separate snapchats that held the message “Yo, Zo, grease suits you. Wanna come to a party Friday? SPRQpoint at six.”

She replied with a singular snap of a specific finger with the caption “Already planned on it. See you there.”

The next day, Simon texted her during a dull moment. 

_**Simon** _ _**  
Hey hey hey! There’s a SPRQpoint party tomorrow. You interested?** _

_**Zoey** _

_**I’m already coming. See ya!** _

Right as she pressed “send” on that text, she got a notification from her computer about an incoming email.

It was formal and straight to the point, sent from Joan.

_**SPRQpoint company party** _ _**  
  
This Friday, 6pm.** _

_**Attendance is mandatory for all employees.** _

_**Dress code: casual formal.** _

Zoey didn’t even question how Joan found her email.

The last person to ask her about it was, surprisingly, Max. He waited until their shared lunch break to even broach the subject, looking… nervous? “So… SPRQpoint’s got a company party happening tomorrow, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me? To the party?”

“Oh, I’m already going,” Zoey replied casually, at this point she had enough invites to go to the party six times. “I’ll just see you there.”

Max hadn’t seemed satisfied with that answer, but he didn’t ask any further questions, just went back to their previous conversion.

“So, in summary,” Zoey finished, having laid out all of her invitations. “I’m going to the SPRQpoint party tomorrow.”

Mitch and Maggie, who had been listening to her talk, shared a look. 

Zoey looked between the two of them. “What?”

“Zoey,” Maggie started, “Have you considered the idea that some of those people were asking you to the party as a date?”

“What? No…” But as she denied it, her mind re-played the last thirty-six hours and how everyone asked her to the party… “Oh, no…” 

While Zoey had a mini-crisis over a cup of tea, Mitch and Maggie share another look between the two of them. How they managed to have _two_ emotionally challenged children will always be their biggest mystery.

\-------

Zoey stopped outside the SPRQpoint building, doing one last check of her outfit and making sure she had everything she needed. Of course Joan had gone with “casual formal,” the least specific dress code in the world. She had eventually settled on just wearing a button-up under a sweater. She stepped inside, waving at anyone that she recognized, and hit the button for the elevator. She had eventually decided to go to the party alone, as a way to not offend anyone who asked her. When she got up to the fourth floor everyone was already there, standing around and making small talk. 

Pretty much every conversation died as she stepped out, and once _again_ she was the center of attention. Max was the first to greet her, appearing at her elbow and scaring the shit out of her. “Hey, you’re here!”

“I’m here,” She replied.

“So… who did you come with?”

Zoey blatantly realized that her answer of “no one” was probably not going to suffice. She thought about the different people who had asked her, trying to pick a neutral option. “Jessica. I came with Jessica.” That was probably not neutral.

Max took a step back out of pure confusion, titling his head like a puppy. “But I thought Jessica came with Simon?”  
  


“ _Simon_?” Tobin interrupted, inserting himself into their conversation. “Max, I thought _you_ came with Simon.” Zoey did her best not to laugh out loud at the expression on Max’s face.

Since Zoey’s conversations were apparently a group project, Leif appeared next, pointing at Tobin. “Wait, wait, wait, Tobin, didn’t _you_ come with Max?”

“You and _Tobin_ come together?” Max, still next to Zoey, looked more confused with every new question.

Zoey watched in horror as the conversation gradually escalated, with Tobin eventually pulling over one of the large whiteboards to write on. The next thing Zoey knew, the entire party was crowded around the whiteboard interrupting each other and trying to figure out who came with who.

From the front of the office the elevator dinged, and Joan stepped out, her heels clicking on the concrete floor. “What is this?” Joan’s voice cut straight through the argument, and everyone quickly fell into silence. “Doesn’t matter. Zoey! Glad you’re here, you’re my date now.”

Jessica was the first to reply, stepping in between Zoey and Joan with her arms crossed. “Over my dead body!”

“Over _my_ dead body!” Tobin followed, trying to step in front of Zoey only for Jessica to elbow him in the side. Around the room the chaos increased tenfold, with everyone yelling and explaining how _they_ asked Zoey to the party. This was officially her worst nightmare (though it was also a little bit touching that this many people wanted to be her date).

Since it seemed like no one was smart enough to realize that Zoey was right there, she took matters into her own hands, climbing onto one of the (thankfully) not rolly chairs. “ _ **ENOUGH**_!” Everyone froze; most of them had never heard her yell before. “Since we can’t deal with this like the mature adults we are _supposed_ to be, We’re going to do this like we’re _children_. Draw names and figure out an order; you’re all taking turns with Zoey time. Until you organize yourselves, _I_ will be eating pigs in a blanket.” With that, she spun around and walked over to the buffet table.

“You’ve got some lungs on you, Red.” Zoey looked up, cheeks puffed out with at least five different pigs in a blanket, to see a face she didn’t recognize. “I’m Mo, the DJ for this little shindig. Now, tell me, who exactly are you, and why are these nerds all fighting over you?”

Zoey did her best to swallow her food as quickly as possible before speaking. “I’m Zoey.” She began, trying to figure out the best way to explain when even she herself wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. “I’m a mechanic, I don’t work here.”

Mo nodded, looking between Zoey and the crowd of people hovering over Simon’s hat. “That explains nothing.”

Zoey shrugged helplessly and grabbed a plate off the edge of the table. She had no idea why so many coders had taken an interest in an awkward mechanic. 

From the crowd, Max’s voice raised above everyone else’s. “I think I should get double Zoey time because I knew her the longest.”

“Actually,” Tobin interrupted. “Zoey and I went to high school together.”

“Wait, what?” Zoey put the plate down and turned back towards the SPRQpoint employees. To her shock Tobin looked totally serious. “We did?”

Tobin’s face lit up, and suddenly he was not only in her personal bubble, but holding… was that a yearbook? Did he just carry that around with him? “I’m so glad you asked!” He flipped open the book and began shifting through the pages.

Over Tobin’s shoulder (Thank god for stairs making her tall), she can see Leif say “where was he keeping that?” To Max.

“See?” Tobin had flipped to a specific page and pointed. “There’s me, and _that_ ,” He pointed again, “Is you!”

Zoey stared at the yearbook. That was definitely her school picture, she was even wearing the butterfly hair clip that her dad had given her. “Wow. I… didn’t think our school made yearbooks?” She would’ve thought that she’d’ve noticed the advertisements, or signed at least one yearbook.

“Oh, they don’t,” Tobin replied, as if that answered everything.

She stared at him for a moment, feeling about seven different emotions at once, before shrugging and accepting the fact that Tobin somehow made his own yearbook, possibly with the exact purpose of showing it to Zoey. “But, wait, I dropped out junior year, and our school was huge. Have you recognized me this whole time? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Tobin at least had the decency to look sheepish (she hadn’t realized that was possible). “I actually didn’t recognize you at first, but once I did I got to making this bad boy.” He slammed the year book closed and patted the top. “But like… Zoey, you were literally the _only_ redhead in the whole school. How unobservant would I be if I _didn’t_ at least notice you disappearing one day?”

There was a lot to unpack there, but Zoey decided to focus on the most pressing issue. “Okay, there’s no way I was the _only_ redhead in the school.” She took the yearbook from his hands, intent on proving him wrong.

“And that’s your Zoey time,” Joan said, grabbing Tobin by the shoulders to move him to the side and looking over a pad of paper that she assumed had the Zoey Time list “Jessica, it’s your turn.”

They were not kidding about Zoey Time. Throughout the rest of the party Zoey was consistently being steered from person to person while everyone else mingled impatiently. At one point she was mid conversation with Simon only to suddenly have her arms full of Max the second it switched to his turn. It was surprisingly fun; the Zoey time interruptions kept the conversations from dragging on for too long, though by the end of the party everyone had given up on keeping the schedule and Zoey was able to just chill and let people come to her when they wanted to talk.

She found a swing… chair and settled herself there, finally flipping through the yearbook to keep herself awake. That’s where Max found her, he handed over one of the cupcakes from the buffet and settled into his own chair-swing beside her. “Every time I get used to the fact that you’re everyone’s favorite SPRQpoint employee, they manage to surprise me.”

“Hell yeah,” Zoey couldn’t keep herself from laughing a little at the absurdity. She didn’t even work at SPRQpoint, but she still felt at home. It was a community that she was now a part of. “That’s the life; being the favorite employee at a company you don’t even work for. Now come on, I’m trying to prove Tobin wrong about that ‘only redhead’ thing.”

“You’re still on that?” Max asked, already moving himself closer to help. He watched her flip through the yearbook, and they worked out a system where he would look at the right page and she looked at the left. Unfortunately no other red heads popped out and when the book switched to extracurriculars Zoey was forced to accept the fact that Tobin was right.“By the way,” Max began, “Did you just say that you came with Jessica to keep the peace, or was that true?”

Zoey considered the question. “I mean… Jessica asked me _first_ ,” She explained, “But everyone asked me. Why?”

“There was a betting pool,” Max said. Zoey wished that was a surprising statement, but considering everything that had happened, it was not. “But I think the DJ just won.”

Across the room Zoey caught Mo’s eye where he was collecting money from Leif.

**Author's Note:**

> Adohug here, this came from zep brainrot which turned into jane levy brainrot which turned into watch a sci-fi film that has a 67% on rotten tomatoes, and v just came along for the ride for some reason. I appreciate her so much.
> 
> thanks for reading! comments and kudos are neat and you can find us on tumblr @izzy-mccalla and @judastarkid.


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